


Snow Globe

by vilepie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt No Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 18:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30059487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilepie/pseuds/vilepie
Summary: Eduard had no chance, and neither did any asset he could dig up. There was nothing he could do. Nothing, except wait until the glorious minute that Tolys stopped breathing.
Relationships: Estonia/Lithuania (Hetalia)
Kudos: 4





	Snow Globe

**Author's Note:**

> hi! popping in to say that i rated this mature just to be safe. it is kinda heavy, and i didn't wanna mislead anyone. :D

Eduard had spent the last handful of decades without leaving sight of Tolys. It was a new development, as were the condolences that were constantly tossed his way. Eduard knew he wasn’t the strongest, and he wasn’t the freest, but he was far from an idiot. He knew Tolys couldn’t die; Tolys would always come back be it after a verbal fight, or a war. That knowledge, however, provided his downfall. Eduard knew Tolys’ body wouldn’t give up. He knew the consequence was that death would be slow, and painful.

Fear of the unknown, and fear of the known danced together, their footfalls mimicking his as he backtracked towards the bed he hadn’t slept in for months. He longed to crawl beneath the same sheets that carried Tolys’ fate, but the threat of not being forgiven held him in place. Eduard had failed infinite times to risk himself for a desirable outcome, and the turn of the century had brought about a boost to his confidence, yet also provided the reason he was barred from playing hero.

Guilt welled within him, swirling around amongst his worries. Still, he couldn’t bear to force Tolys through anymore, going as far as to snatch up a pillow, and rest on the carpet. It hurt, as did it when he stirred, and rammed his head into the bars connecting the legs of a wooden chair he had pulled in from the kitchen, but Eduard hadn’t the freedom to complain.

He did, however, give himself the privilege to go against Tolys’ wishes occasionally, and take hold of his hand when he was as certain as possible that he wouldn’t awaken himself soon. It was completely unpredictable, the other either rousing from nightmares, or pain, or sleeping through both atrocities. Eduard had to wait, and every time it took more than a blink for him to catch his breath upon his return to consciousness, they both drew closer to the inevitable. 

Words were the only way to pass time, and distract themselves, but Tolys talked less, and less. Fear was creating a stronger brew, Eduard calling out to the man who lay in his bed every couple of minutes, if not to remind Tolys of his presence, then to assure himself that Tolys was there as well. Rather he got a response was at random, and this time the dice fell in his favour. 

“Eduard?” 

Tolys’ response had been muffled by the shifting of fabric, not that it took much to cover up the unintentionally half hearted query. The only clue that he had been heard was that Tolys' head lay towards the side, compromising the comfortable position for a chance to tempt fate, and stare Eduard down. That hurt Eduard as well, his own throat indecisively opening only to snap shut as his worries muzzled him. It mimicked hands reaching out from the wall he was leaned upon, knees pulled up to his chest so that he could find some relief in resting his chin upon his dark grey sweats.

He didn’t know what the question he was meant to be answering was, not suspecting to get this far. Eduard’s mind provided a simple mercy, his head nodding of its own accord, and giving his glasses an opportunity to dip down the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to push them back into place, fearful of the sight he would confront once more. Tolys’ hair was a mess, a product of not allowing Eduard close enough for touch, and his own lack of will. Strands were unsure, some clinging to his face while others either moved with him, or on their own.

Tolys’ eyes were still, though, dull, and unforgivingly watching. There was an absent thought as to how much he could actually see, quickly dismissed by an onslaught of gasping.

There was nothing he could do.

“Tolys. Calm down, it’s alright.” Eduard’s voice proved just as strained, and his words didn’t do a thing but create an escape for him to cling to opposed to the wretched sounds.

The coughing tapered off eventually, slowly fading into whimpers, and strangled cries that were torture in themselves, and reminiscent of far too many evils. It took seconds longer for him to reinstate his clear vision, struggling to shove his glasses back into his head in an attempt to assess the damage.

If anything had changed, it was for the worse. Blood spattered the pristine white sheets, sending momentary panic to surge above all other emotions until the rest of the scene unfolded. Tolys had squeezed his eyes shut, sparing Eduard the agony of looking into the other’s weakness, but escalating the physicality of the rest. He had become twisted in the sheets, every muscle seemingly tensed, and pressed up against the bed, or the rest of his body as if they clung for dear life. A similar act repeated, Tolys’ hands having clawed at his neck. His fingernails not digging into his nail beds was a welcome change, save for the fact that they had scouted out more flesh to tear up.

Eduard couldn’t absorb the pain, but he could absorb the sight. It was as if he was watching from behind a screen, hardly capable of interacting, yet entranced by the plot that thickened with the moment. Lifting a finger was a battle, and words more so.

“Tolys?” 

There was no effect, and Eduard hadn’t a clue if it were due to his quivering tone, or the affliction.

“Tolys! You- No- You have to calm down. Please!” 

Urgency grew as Eduard stammered on, his terror building up, only to quell with another cough. The one involuntary movement had set Tolys straight, completely lax upon the bed, and green eyes pleading for something Eduard couldn’t give.

Instead of pulling his knees back towards his face, he pushed his calves underneath him, forcing himself upright. Eduard didn’t dare move closer, Tolys having been firm, a trait that currently contrasted everything about him, in his decision that Eduard must keep his distance, and his health. 

“You’re bleeding, Leedu,” Eduard pleaded himself, pulling the one card he knew would rile Tolys up had he the strength to even walk alone. 

It was a cry born from similar extremity, though that had been one they didn’t carry alone. The nickname had been, no words needed to say, banished from public ear, but when the situation arose, Eduard didn’t hesitate to take the one advantage he held in getting his point across.

“At least let me come over there and- and fix, uh, that.”

His words took a moment to sink in, and once again lack of consciousness became a state he was reluctantly rooting for. Tolys lifted his head, however, retaliating against the proposition.

“I’ll do it myself.” 

There was no sting, nor meaning until Tolys followed through with what he had begun. There was a shattered mirror between them, fragments of Tolys’ image being reflected on Eduard. Cloth was gripped between both of their fingers, Eduard’s captive being his grey shirt, and Tolys’ being the sheets he was struggling to escape from. One trembled in fear, and the other in exhaustion, both longing to surge forward. 

It was the one battle that Tolys had the luck of winning lately, finally coming to rest against the headboard with the only cost being blood smeared on the pillows now at the base of his back. His head was provided no comfort, but the fact didn’t even seem to register, the only time his hair parted from the cool wood of the bed frame being when he lurched forward to catch his breath. 

Eduard wasn’t sure if he had won his own battle, or lost it, his current focus being scooting along the length of the deep rustic blue wall. Tolys hadn’t uttered a word, leaving him unsure if it was his signal to move along, or if the other had managed to cough up the rebellious spirit he had digested years ago. Either way, Eduard had every intent of shoving right back, and that began with pushing open one of the three cracks in the deep colours of the room.

A pristine white door on the wall adjacent to the one that held the portal into their equally dark hallway, both in opposite corners, but only one led to a brighter room, not that anything could provide the illusion of the light at the end of the tunnel. Not even the similarly coloured comforter that had been peeled back to reveal layers of white, and Tolys’ days old olive green loungewear ensemble that fell away from his body, the loose nature being amplified as its wearer’s composition shrunk.

The white walled, and blue trimmed bathroom held the same pigmented, and sized garments tucked away in yet another matching rustic laundry hamper. Tucked being quite literal, Tolys’ clothes being buried underneath Eduard’s own, any form of self care escaping the priorities of the former. Eduard was determined to change that, ready to take a stand against what he could of Tolys’ poorly enforced rules that arose from his current state. The scheme born from fear, and helplessness had Eduard overcoming his trembling with force as he yanked the handle for cold water on the sink towards himself, and snatched up a rag resting in a painted wooden box atop the toilet.

The frigid water was a welcome shock, freezing his worries from where they spun, and dipped in favour of dragging him back into reality. Eduard hadn’t missed much, his detached fantasy acting more as a documentary than anything, though the distance between him, and Tolys were to remain. He was no longer acting on impulse, thoughts not wasting away time with elegant twirls, and steps, instead pushing through to pour into Eduard’s plans. 

Logic was once again present as he observed the water being pulled into the white cloth in his grip, yet the same conclusion was made. Eduard couldn’t do a thing, and it wasn’t simply because of Tolys. He was well, and truly stuck, and that was now the idea bouncing off the walls of the snow globe he had just overturned

One more flip to set the souvenir upright, to halt the water flow, and Eduard was retreating back to the bedroom with the contained blizzard raging once again. 

A rag wouldn’t help too much. The miniscule cuts couldn’t kill him, but at least the cool of the cloth had the chance of seeping into his torn flesh, and healing the filth that encased him. What resided in his lungs was another issue. Eduard had no chance, and neither did any asset he could dig up. There was nothing he could do. Nothing, except wait until the glorious minute that Tolys stopped breathing. 

He pressed his finger between the door and the frame as the distance between them closed, slowly untwisting the knob until a click much softer than what would’ve been sounded. Eduard had to trek back towards the new home he built exclusively for himself, buried in snow, and sorrow. Before taking a seat, he tossed the balled up rag to Tolys, eyes focused on finding the chair opposed to figuring out the outcome of his, hopefully not faulty, throw. Tolys didn’t make a sound, and that was what mattered. 

Eduard permitted time to slip through his fingers, just as Tolys seemed to evade him, before he let the stiffness evaporate, and his back fall against the chair. Comfort didn’t come often anymore, his only option being an attempt to relax. That also involved tilting his head upwards, and giving himself a clear view of the tragedy that refused to take its course.

Upon investigation, the rag lay on one of the white bedside tables, obscuring the sight of the alarm clock that was old enough to rival some of the younger nations. Tolys had a habit of keeping trivial things as long as said items didn’t come to him easily. The clock was a product of an accidental dumpster find, meetings truly do get boring, Tolys happily carting it home, and entirely unwilling to relinquish his newfound ownership. 

It was quite the opposite of the situation with the rag, Tolys having paid no mind to it. His eyes were open, just enough to display his begging, and wounded gaze, and he had returned to resting on his side. Probably not the best position for breathing, but anything offering a way out didn't deserve condemning.

“Tolys?” Eduard cooed, his own gaze searching for some answer that was too far to even need a mention. That didn't stop him, though.

No response came, and Eduard was weighing his options. He wanted to move closer, just a touch couldn’t hurt, but if Tolys truly was resting without a horrible wheezing filling the room, he knew best not to disturb that. 

Better judgement held no value when he heard a near inaudible gasp, Eduard springing forward like he had done the night before when sleep finally befell the other. He sat on his knees, his eyes avoiding Tolys’ typically captivating green ones. He tugged at the hand laying across the other's stomach, inches away from touching his disgusting loungewear. 

Eduard resolved to stroke his palm, much larger fingers sliding over the callouses whose usual feel was disturbed by the chill, and clamminess brought on by the same thing that caused this sneaky touch. After a few moments, he made a move to intertwine their fingers, his grip as deathly as what plagued Tolys’ lungs. His hold tightened, but his head slumped, ear resting against the sheets, and hair brushing the other's chest.

It was the spitting image of the night before, save for the silence. It killed Eduard as much as the agonizing coughs, and whimpers. He wasn’t sure if this was good, or bad. He didn’t know which way this meant it would end, and that possible change in direction horrified him.

“Tolys?” Eduard tried.

Nothing, and the absence sent a spark throughout his body to melt the ice holding him down. He retracted his hand, the movement lacking any resistance. Eduard pressed his arms into the mattress, shakily propelling himself upwards. He didn’t know what to do, nor did he know what it meant, but staring wasn’t working. He took his hand, slick with sweat, and swiped at Tolys’ face.

Nothing. There was nothing except a strangled cry, Eduard’s pain reversing the roles. There was nothing, and Eduard didn’t understand why he was shocked.

**Author's Note:**

> haha,,,, sorry. initially, i didn't mean for this to be so, uh, depressing? it was supposed to be just another sickfic. nothing tooo bad. well, you see how that went. i guess i could just say "the muse ran wild" and leave it at that. anywhoooo- feedback is appreciated. have a good day! and don't forget about food, water, and *anything that can put a smile on your face! ^.^
> 
> *anything that isnt this fic,,,, ┐(´∀｀)┌


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